


April showers

by dead_silence



Category: Radiohead (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 00:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_silence/pseuds/dead_silence
Summary: One angsty moment for Thom and Jonny in April showers. Jonny's POV.





	April showers

The door opens, and a blurred shadow appears in the white room.

Soon it turned into the silhouette of a boy wearing a heavy coat in the corner of my sight. Then he knelt down to me lying with the limbs bended on the floor.  
　  
His thin, but powerful arms lifted my body. His hands are so fair--almost pale, that I can see his blue veins clearly. I felt the moistness and the strong smell of April showers through his soaked hair and clothes, being pulled up close to him. Then I found the faraway sound of falling rain not the vague dreams that I 'd always been dreaming in my broken sleep.

He holds me in his arms so tightly that as if I were dying and he were trying to bring me back to life. Not caring either the left of the sudden rain (I guessed, as he didn't have an umbrella with him.) dropping on his forehead nor the sleeves wetted by the spring storm, he cuddled me up even more strongly. And he seems never to let me go.  
I got almost suffocated and heard a muffled moan escaping from myself. Before I managed to speak a word, his cold lips were pushed to mine, and I smoothed down his lovely blond hair. Astonishingly bright-coloured eyes came out from behind his forelock, and they met mine straight.

"You'd..."  
"I'd what?"

The words "You'd catch a cold." were what I tried to say, but I couldn't. My voice was too faint to make sense.  
He put his one ear near my lips and waited for me to speak. "You'd catch a cold, if you stay wet with that soaked coat." I thought I could tell him clearly one way or another, at this time.

He didn't reply.

Instead, he laid me down on the floor in silence, and a quiet smile came into his face. It was like a lost child who found his mother in a crowd.  
Angelic and innocent, but yet with a slight shadow of forlornness. His expression was a bit sulky, like saying "You, don't leave."

He took off the coat and damp shirt clinging to his torso like the skin of a chrysalis, in a breath. The exposed flesh made me gasp. It was pure white. His bony chest seemed like a sculpture made of the frail, but solid substance, a surface of alabaster polished to smooth, and the milky white glass-work.  
I thought him of a heavenly creature--the god must have made it so beautiful that we human beings are forbidden to touch.  
With the dim light cast from the window reflecting the dark cloudy sky, his skin shines like burning pale. Unconsciously, I shut my eyes. If not, I'd become blind--I thought so quite seriously.

Then, bare arms caught me.I cuddled him too, trying to feel his cold skin and pulsating blood vessels under the lithe muscles, with my eyes still closed.  
Inside of his back wrapped around by my arms, his little heart is beating fast.It reminded me of some kinds of small animals--when I hold them, I realise their great vulnerability. It seems that if I tried to, I could break his spine easily.  
While the comfy drowsiness overcame me with him in my arms, I found his white, burning fingertips vigorously undoing the top button of my shirt. I opened my eyes reflectively.

Suddenly, the contour of the blurred reality got clear in my unfocused mind, I felt an abrupt sense of fear.

I grabbed the back of his hands keeping on undoing the buttons frantically, into my palms, and I saw him in the eye, with no words.

His look was filled with the odd colour--possession.

Its strange effulgence made me wince. Captured by the broken blue of his pupils, I always get queerly weak. The skinny hands escaped from mine with no difficulty.

Almost impulsively, I tried to lean back. But before I could, he caught me tightly and kissed me. After the slightly rough touch of his lips, the taste of life was deeply poured into me. I got utterly struck.  
He kissed me over and over, as if he literally wanted to give half of his life to me. I swallowed it desperately, and now the last button got undone.  
His cold hands, being hard to get warm, touch my naked skin.

I always think we should stop, when it happens.  
I wish we could, but never. We can never ever get the shore I long to go back to, and we drown.

His piercing stare is set on me. It's pleading on something so tensely, and dedicating everything at the same time. I shut my eyes again to turn away from this delirious look. But the image of his gaze was so impressing in my mind that I couldn't erase it even with my eyes closed. The urgent need reflected in his look made me feel almost the pain. I shivered at the touch of his fingers creeping all over, and I felt like starting to cry out insanely. But the fear I had once was taking over me, and the sense of insecurity that I can't figure out blocked my throat up.

"...Please,"  
"No, I can't. How should I? Jonny.You say rubbish all the time."  
He mumbles.

I stopped trying to force the words.

Between our disordered breathing and overlapped heartbeats, I was listening to the rain. In the gloom of this white room, the reality turned into a haze again. We indulged to each other, like the flesh offered as the sacrifice.

Time passes by, and I can never count on it.  
With mixed feelings of the agony and the pleasure, two of us have got quietly broken.  
His thick moan turned into a cracked sober, and I raised my eyes wavering. He was crying on my chest with his face down, as if he were born there and wanted to go back there.  
"What makes you cry, Thom?"  
I asked and heard my own voice echoing distorted in my dull consciousness.  
He didn't answer shaking his head, in a manner of an unreasonable child. His face was still covered with his hands.

"...Gone away."  
"What's gone?"  
"You. I can't feel you close."  
"I'm here with you."  
I said.  
"No."  
"Why?"  
"No. I can tell."  
He whispered.

His voice was trembling with the thirst that will never get slaked. The severe heat having been overwhelming me got slightly weak now, and I felt the chilliness of the floor on my back. I passed my hand over his hair as gently as I could, like I was trying not to scare the small animal that's got hurt and ill.

I wish I could say we have to get back.  
We'd better return to the place in that we can repaint this scene out, pretend it's nothing, and start everything newly. However, at the same time, I realised all these thoughts of mine compelled him to cry.  
The slowly focusing reality took me down to the deep where I can't see its bottom, and I felt I was being punished. For the sin of taking the flesh never to touch and the sacrifice I never deserve.

The rain was still falling. And its sound of beating the roof got together with his broken sob filling the room.

"Thom, we'd better go..."  
"No."  
"We have to get out, and let the rain wash us, ..."  
"Never say that again, Jonny."

If only these showers of April could cleanse our shared sins away. I imagined the countless drops of heavy rain--soaking the skin, even infiltrating the soul, making the whole world pure, pouring and pouring.  
I put my hand on his still subtly moist hair, but it was too powerless to take him to the outside where I wished to go. I could picture the obscure bloom pulled down to earth by the rain--the spring squirming in my blinded mind.

Before I knew it, he stopped crying.  
The weak smile, with that painful forlornness, passed over his face again.  
Only one thing I could do was holding him tightly to warm his cold body, listening to the rain everlastingly falling.


End file.
